


Beaucoup D'amour, Mon Ami

by battlemoosegalactica



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Cute, Declarations Of Love, Feel-good, Homophobia, Horseback Riding, M/M, Nonbinary Marquis de Lafayette, Other, Pining, Trans Character, Trans Hercules Mulligan, a lil bit of texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battlemoosegalactica/pseuds/battlemoosegalactica
Summary: Modern AU as cliché as they come!  A very sweet get together fic that is super self indulgent





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big part of this chapter is based off of this tumblr post (http://peujeune.tumblr.com/post/147836676485/thisisarebeljyn-therevir-drarryking) specifically:  
> "I know this kid who was leaving Pride, trying so badly to rub off the rainbow paint on his cheek because his dad was abusive and didn’t know he was gay or at pride. I was on the bus with him and he was close to tears, he cheek red, and I had my make up bag and there was a packet of wet wipes, so I went up and sat next to him and helped him rub it off. We’ve been best friends ever since."
> 
>  
> 
> Herc's point of view

I’ve been taking my knitting on the bus rides from my downtown internship to my apartment, staying on for an extra round trip or two every once in awhile. The background noise helps me focus on the stitch counts, and it’s not like my apartment has anything better to offer.

That is how I started this particular trip, as I have a scarf to finish that is promised to Lafayette. And by promised to, I mean I decided a scarf is way cooler than flowers and I’m going to surprise them with it on their closing night. They’re currently costume manager at our university's theater program. The troupe is performing Legally Blonde, so it is a truly offensive shade of pink. (If I could get my hands on some glittering yarn, I’d add fringe to the ends of it).

I started out knitting, but the bus today, somehow it seems more lively. I kept getting distracted by the people I never see on this route, setting my yarn and needles on my lap every few minutes just to watch and listen. I learned a lot: Karen is having a baby, the guy in the fedora is worried about his application not making it through, Vanessa is stuck in a loveless marriage, and Terry is terrified of being a father for the first time. How these people feel comfortable with talking about such personal subjects on public transport is beyond me. 

The bus halted a little more aggressively than usual, and I watched helpless as my needle slipped out of the current row of looped yarn it was in and skittered down the aisle.

“Shit,” I muttered, moving to put my ball of yarn and messenger bag and half completed pink atrocity onto the seat next to me without unraveling the stitches. I need that needle, these are the rainbow ones Laf gave me for my birthday this year. Fear coursed through me as the yarn caught on a button on my jacket and nearly pulled out the first loop. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” I softly yelled at the scarf, hoping it was listening. I hate trying to put the loop back in, I get so easily lost in the patterns, especially if it is all one color. 

I safely removed the yarn from around my button, and, hoping to find the rainbow needle and get it before the bus started moving again, sprang up from my seat. I quite nearly ran into the boy waiting behind me. “Looking for this?” he asked, holding up my knitting needle.

“Oh my God, thank you so much, I was worried would lose it to the recesses of the bus.” I chuckled, taking the needle from his hand, noticing a slight chip in a few colors.

“I don’t think you could of, the rainbow is hard to not notice. And it would be too awful, considering the day.”

“The day?” I asked. I then realized what the boy was wearing. He was wearing a shirt that said “closets are for clothes!” in huge lettering, an honest to god rainbow tutu, and rainbow crocs. A rainbow flag was draped over his shoulders in a cape and he had so many temporary tattoos on his face that they blended together on his cheeks and forehead. My rainbow needle could have easily just been a part of his ensemble. There was glitter in his hair and a giant smile on his face. “I’m an idiot,” I said.

He laughed enough to fill the whole bus, who responded with a quick jerk to life. I sat down quickly and he sat across the aisle. Another boy sat next to him, “Goddamn bus fare being a goddamn nightmare, how come the goddamn machine never works for me?” He was much more conservatively dressed than his friend - a simple grey shirt and jacket, jeans and sneakers, a black backpack resting against his shin. The only things that gave him away was the small rainbow flag sticking out of his backpack pocket and the single rainbow flag temporary tattoo across his cheek. 

“The bus probably has a vendetta,” Rainbow replied.

“Nah,” Grey said, “It’s a hate crime. The bus is homophobic.”

“You’re so right,” Rainbow snickered. “The bus could sense the gayness inside of you and decided to lash out.” Rainbow shook his head, small strands of long black hair catching in his tattoos and body glitter and lip gloss. “In reality, it’s probably more because you never take public transport so you have no idea what you are doing.”

“I resent that,” he sighed, leaning back into his seat and resting his hands behind his head. The act stretched his torso, pulling up his shirt and exposing the smallest slip of stomach. I went back to knitting.

Trying to put a knitting needle through the vulnerable loops on a moving bus is not the easiest thing I have ever done. Laf better appreciate the shit out of this scarf, it has been turning out to be more difficult than it should have been. Although, it’s fairly appropriate, considering who it is going to. I smiled to myself. They can never make anything easy, can they.

A long breath came out of Grey. “Thanks for coming with me, Alex.”

“Are you kidding?” Alex shouted, his tutu shaking from his leg bouncing. 

I heard the sound of a firm hand on a body. “Shush, lower your voice,” Grey said, “I’m too tired for your regular levels.” I could only imagine a small smile being on the boy’s face, he teased Alex with no malice. 

“Heh, sorry,” Alex hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees, entering my peripheral vision. “But seriously,” he began as softly as the rambunctious boy could manage, “I had such a great time! We should go to pride together next year! And every year after that! Alex and John, the gayest of friends, strong in both definitions of the word!”

John snorted. “I can live with that.”

“I believe last time you said that I was driving you to an early grave!”

“I’m still living in the meantime,” John teased. 

“Fuck off,” Alex said.

A comfortable silence settled between the two. I glanced up to see John leaning into his friend, his head on Alex’s shoulder, fiddling the tulle of his tutu between his first two fingers. Maybe I should make a tutu for Laf, I absently thought, turning back to my knitting.

“Do you remember that one guy in the rainbow tux?” Alex mused.

“Which one?” John laughed. “Do you remember the girl with the rainbow hair?”

“Do you remember the dog with the rainbow fur?!”

“Alex, you’re yelling again shut up.”

Alex pulled his arm from between them and draped it over John’s shoulders. “You shut up.”

“Okay,” he replied.

A moment of silence passed between the two. Alex heaved a great sigh and tugged on John’s hair twice in quick succession. “I didn’t mean that.”

John snorted with an impressive volume. “I bet you couldn’t last five minutes without speaking.”

“I resent that accusation!”

John leaned back against Alex’s shoulder. “How do you live like this?”

“Like what?”

“So…” John clicked his tongue and took a breath. “So full all the time.”

“Full?” Alex’s eyebrows scrunched together.

“Yeah. Like an inflated balloon, or a bag of popcorn in the microwave, or a stress ball in the hands of a toddler. There’s just so much inside of you moving all the time.”

The brakes began to hiss.

“This is my stop,” Alex said.

“I know.”

“You sure you’re okay to go home tonight?” Alex stood, his dark brown eyes softly studying his friend.

“Of course.” John gave him a tight lipped smile that soon melted into a signature smirk. “Get going, or you are going to be taking a much longer ride than anticipated.”

“I could ride with you home and wait for it to come around again,” Alex offered.

“Get off, you have shit to do I’m sure.” A beat of silence passed. “I’m serious, I’m fine, go before you’re stuck.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex grumbled. “Text me!”

“Course.”

Nearly tripping over himself and the rainbow flag that was now trailing on the floor next to him, Alex stumbled off the bus.

John’s phone lit up seconds later. He chuckled and shook his head. After writing a quick response, I watched as he lifted the phone up to be level with his face. He squinted at the screen, trailing his fingertips across the rainbow tattoo and glitter adorning his cheeks. With a small frown, he licked the pads of his fingers and began to aggressively rub the tattoo off. I winced, trying not to think about just how unsanitary that was.

I thought of the packaged towelettes in my messenger bag, thrown in there from the last time I was at the diner closest to the studio. Would this be weird?

I glanced up at John. His brows were furrowed in frustration, the corners of his mouth pulled down and an angry look in his eyes. Angry? I watched a hot tear slide down his face, rolling easily down his cheekbones. Maybe not completely angry. 

Would this be too weird? 

Well, weird has never stopped me before. I thrust my knitting back into my bag and grabbed the wipe. I put my bag on my shoulders, walked across to John, grabbing the nearest pole with my right hand and holding the single packet with my left for to boy to see. “Hey. Could you use some help?”

He frowned, stopping in his administrations to glare up at me. “I’m fine.” he muttered. The effect was lessened by the red around his eyes and the moisture pooling in their corners. He looked back at his camera app and started scrubbing again.

“I know,” I said, “It’s just that this would be a lot easier. And probably nicer for the skin. And less gross.”

He pursed his lips and seemed to consider my offer. Soon enough, he took the wipe from my hands and tore the package open. I took that as invitation enough to sit next to him. He used the phone and wipe to slowly wash the rainbow from his skin. I took my knitting back out - I really do have to finish this scarf by Sunday. 

About three double rows of stitches later, John huffed next to me, “Fucking glitter.”

I laugh in surprise. “What did you expect? They say glitter is the herpes of the arts and crafts world.”

John snorts, “Really?”

“Would I, a perfect stranger, ever lie to you?” I joked. He smile softly, right cheek still rubbed red raw and glitter mingling with the freckles on his face. “Besides,” I continued, “I’m a fashion major, so I really do know the struggle.”

John’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re a fashion major?”

“I know, I don’t quite look the type.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He shook his head and laughed, “I know someone else… Well, they’re not a fashion major but they do costume design. Where do you attend?”

“USC, go cocks,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“Me too! I’m a poly sci major.”

“That’s so cool!”

“My name is John,” he said, sticking his hand out to shake (as comfortably as possible as we are sitting right next to each other).

“I know,” I said, immediately regretting. “I mean, I heard you talking to your friend earlier, sorry, I’m not creepy I promise.” I could feel my cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

John laughed, “Well then, please tell me your name so that we are on the same playing field.”

“Hercules Mulligan,” I replied, “Although, generally people just call me Herc.”

“How many people have asked you if you were named after the Disney character?”

“Too many, man, too many.”

“You on snapchat?”

I grabbed his phone and opened the app. I threw him my phone to let him add himself.

“Threadboi?” he asked, looking over my shoulder.

“Blame that on Laf,” I chuckled.

“Laf?” he asked. “As in Lafayette? As in Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette? The Marquis de Lafayette??”

My grin hurt my cheeks. “The very same! You know them?”

“I can’t believe it” John laughed.

The brakes hissed.

“Well we really have to hang out now.” I threw my knitting back into the bag and stood to leave, handing John his phone back.

“Absolutely!” he smiled while handing me mine. “And hey, uh, thanks for the help.”

“Anytime, I have way too many wipes anyways. I just don’t have the heart to throw them out.”

John smiled and waved as I stepped off the bus. I shouted one last, “Bye, John!” before the doors closed behind me. I watched the bus take off before I spun around to start the walk to my apartment.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes it home.

A couple of bus stops later with a ten minute or so bike ride, I had somehow made it home before my father. Perfect. Hopefully I can figure out a way to get all this glitter off before he gets home. I breathed a sigh of relief and threw my backpack on the floor, the rainbow flag snapping on impact. 

I should have gotten rid of that. I really should have. It just felt wrong to throw it away. You never throw an American flag away for a reason.

I googled ‘proper disposal of an American flag,’ and read aloud to myself. “The most common method is burning the torn or tattered flag in a special ceremony.” I texted Alex.

Pre-lawens: hey, doing anything tomorrow?

I picked up the broken flag and buried it in the bottom of my backpack, locked the front door, then ran up the stairs to chuck it in my bedroom. I’ll just pray that my Dad decides he is too tired to go through my things this weekend. My phone buzzed.

SkillWithTheQuill: Am I ever doing anything?

Pre-lawens: yes

SkillWithTheQuill: Okay, well  
SkillWithTheQuill: I’m not

Pre-lawens: want to partake in a special ceremony to put down my flag?

I grabbed a towel and slipped into the bathroom, putting the shower on as hot as it can go. 

SkillWithTheQuill: Why are we putting it down?

Pre-lawens: can’t have it here.  
Pre-lawens: it broke anyways, it needs a proper burial. 

SkillWithTheQuill: It broke?

Pre-lawens: tragic accident between my backpack and the floor

SkillWithTheQuill: r.i.p.

I put my phone down and undressed, sighing in relief as my back hit the water.

 

 

 

I was picking the last bits of glitter off my face with a Q-tip (somehow there is always one more) when the door finally opened.

“Jack?”

“Yeah, dad?” I cracked the door open, shivering at the draft that slipped in.

“Pizza!”

I shucked the towel off, checked for any last little bastard pieces of glitter in the mirror, and only bothered with boxers and basketball shorts before vaulting down the stairs.

“I even got it half pineapple and ham for you.”

“Oh my God, you’re the best.”

“Watch your language,” he frowned as he set the box on the coffee table and loosened his tie.

“Sorry.”

“Mmh,” he scowled, “You know you shouldn’t be taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

I grabbed a paper plate and loaded it with a sweet Hawaiian slice. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“If you know then why did you say it?”

“It just slipped out, I’m sorry.”

“You know, thinking it isn’t any better.”

“How was work?” I distracted, diving into my dinner.

Dad scowled, but he let the obvious misdirection slide. “Work was alright, same old hoops to jump through, same people to butter up.” He sat next to me with his own plate and a bottled diet pepsi, warm from the long day of neglect at work. “The drive home though, that was absolutely miserable.”

I could only make a noncommittal sound from my pizza filled mouth.

“The damn gay parade,” he muttered. I nearly choked. “Excuse my language,” he finished, “but it’s needed. There are still scantily clad celebrators crowding the streets. I nearly gave up and called delivery for dinner. I didn’t want to get out of the car.”

I stood up. “I’m grabbing a soda, do you want anything?”

“Water would be great, three ice cubes.”

I stuck my face in the fridge, pretending to look for an orange crush to give myself time to get my breathing under control. Jesus.

“It’s sad really,” Dad continued as I ‘searched.’ I decided to grab his water first. “I just wish there was a way to show them the error of their ways. We try to. I saw a great church group brave enough to sit right outside of the parade on the way home today. They were handing out pamphlets and had signs and everything. You know Mrs. V from our parish?”

“Yeah,” I replied, putting the ice in his glass.

“She was out there.”

She was? Did she see me? Oh God, what if she saw me? She is a nosy woman, she would tell him. I’d be fucked.

“I don’t know how she does it, I’ll have to ask her about it.”

Great. Even better.

“It must feel so useless. They hand these things out, they preach, but they must know that they can’t do much. If these people have gone to the point of going to a pride parade to show off their sodomy, they must be so far from God. Too far to help. There is no wonder that they will never experience heaven.”

My arm stretched out to hand him the glass, my teeth latched tightly onto my cheek, eyes trained on a couch cushion, and Alex’s words rushing through my head. ‘Fuerza, John, mi amigo. Fuerza.’ Strength.

“Son.” I made eye contact. “There is no water in this glass.”

Huh. “Well, sir, there is water, it’s just not as liquid as you expected.” He laughed at that and I forced a smile. “Sorry.”

He patted the couch cushion next to him, “Come sit, do you want to watch a movie?”

“Actually, I’m really tired, I might just go to bed.”

“One moment.” My dad leaned in a swiped a thumb under my chin. It pulled back with a single piece of glitter on it.

“Oh,” I laughed. “I was helping a friend with a project. You remember Lafayette, I talk about th-him every once in awhile? I know them from school? You know t-he does does costumes for the college theater? Well glitter, they say, it’s the herpes of arts and crafts -”

“-What?”

“‘Cause you can never really get rid of it,” I finished.

“Perhaps you should go to sleep. Jacky, you feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” I sat the glass of ice on the table. “I’ll just go lie down.” 

I grabbed my pizza and ran up the stairs sending a text to Alex.

Pre-lawens: any chance you can skype tonight?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laf's P.O.V.

“I swear to God if I see one more pink article of clothing tonight I will take this heel off and stick it through a bicep,” I yelled as I swung open the door to the apartment.

The couch squeaked as Hercules jumped, stuffing some project of his back into his messenger bag. Honestly, he really needs a new one, he’s used that for as long as I have known him, and that’s going on three years since we first met as freshman. I saved a personal note on my phone in my memos as he talked: “get herc replacement bag for christmas?”

“Jesus, Laf, you scared me, ever heard of knocking? And don’t you normally text before you head home?”

“Did I not?” I looked up in confusion. Herc was spread out on the couch, the lamp next to him illuminating the side of his face. He was still in his street clothes, abnormal for him.

“No, you did not,” he replied, zipping the top of his bag.

“I’m sorry, I must have forgotten. It’s just been so busy these past two weeks. I would have thought you could run out of ways to rip a costume, but I was very wrong,” I held up the black garment bags draped over my arm.

“The real talent at USC - making Laf’s life miserable.”

“Ha! I’ll have to submit that as an option for our season motto next year. Seriously, somehow our Carlos popped half of his buttons and he doesn't know how he did it. Did they just fall off?? Considering I also have a mailman uniform with the zipper broken in this pile of alterations, I have a solid theory as to what those two get up to between scenes.”

Herc laughed while he got up and stretched, his shirt rucking up in the middle of his stomach. “Do you need any help with the fixes?”

I smile, “Would you mind?”

“Anything for you, Laf.” His hand rested on my shoulder as he passed by. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Why are our glasses all the way up there? To show off Herc’s back and arms and height probably... “Laf?”

“Ah, yeah?” I replied, my eyes snapping up to meet, luckily, the back of his head.  
“I said any water?”

I blinked a few times and rubbed my temples with the palms of my hands. I really have to focus, I’ve got so much work to do tonight. I tore my body from the danger zone of in-sight-of-his-exposed-midriff and strode over to my bedroom. “Ah, no, but thank you,” I replied. I flipped on the lights and threw the garment bags across my bed. I can’t wait to have more space.

Ah, Bertha. My one true love. 

Funnily enough, Herc’s sewing machine is also named Bertha. That strangely coincidental fact is what we bonded so strongly over in the beginning, it’s really what started our friendship. I ran a hand over the top of my Bertha. “I have a lot to thank you for,” I whispered.

“Talking to B again, Laf?”

I spun around. “Of course,” my cheeks heating up. “It is important that you have a strong bond with your hardware.”

“Hardware is an interesting choice of wording,” he smiled.

“Well excuse me, Mr. Hercules, we didn’t all grow up speaking English.”

“You did! You started studying English at three years old!”

“There’s a difference.”

“Sure,” he teased. I put a coaster on my desk under his glass of ice water. “Ready to start?”

“Take your binder off first, mon ami,” I replied.

“You take your binder off.”

“I don’t wear a binder.”

“Fuck the shut up. Brat.”

I shook my head. You mess up the order of a well composed insult once and you never live it down! “How long?”

I watched through glaring eyes as he counted on his fingers. “Only twelve.”

“Only? You know you should only be wearing it for eight.”

“It’s recommended eight to twelve, I am still in the clear, no worries!”

I laughed, “No worries. You are my worries.”

“In a good way?” he asked, poking out his tongue. He may have been joking, but his eyes were so wide, his arms crossed loosely holding his sides, his teeth pressed into his tongue.

“Of course in a good way. There is nothing but good that comes with you, mon ami.”

His eyes sparkled. “I’ll take your word for it.” He lightly jogged out of my room to his to change.

“God, tu seras les clous de mon cercueil,” I muttered, smiling to myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Tu seras les clous de mon cercueil” translates to “you will be the death of me,” although more literally it is “you will be the nails of my coffin/casket.”
> 
> Also, P.S.A. I love Lafayette


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex's P.O.V.

“I really wish you wouldn’t use your laptop at the table, young man.”

I smiled up at Martha. She was wearing an honest to god apron, and she probably made it herself too. I did not deserve her. I don’t know how I was lucky enough to be adopted by them. Well, adopted is a strong world. I’m their honorary kid. It’s a long story.

“It’s not dinner yet,” I argued, “You’ve said I can work when it’s not dinner yet.”

“I suppose,” she sighed as she set a basket with what smelled like croissants on the table. God, I love bread. I’ll snatch one as soon I finish this paragraph… “Leave these alone, I know what you are thinking.”

How does she do that?

“I’m a mother, that’s how.”

“Why can’t I have one? You always let me have one.”

“We have guests tonight.”

“Ma! We have guests and you didn’t tell me? Who’s coming?” I ask as I absentmindedly brush my fingers over the sticky temporary tattoos on my face.

“The Schuyler family.”

“And you decided to tell me this now?? I have tattoo face!!”

Martha placed her hands on her hips. “I told you to take a shower as soon as you walked in that door.”

“Really?”

“If you use a washcloth and baby oil it will come off faster with less red aftermath, there is a bottle under the sink in the upstairs bathroom.”

I snapped my laptop shut and gave Martha a quick peck on the cheek. “You are a lifesaver, those girls would have never lived this down.”

“I know,” she smirked, walking back to the kitchen.

It was about fifteen minutes later when I heard George’s voice waft up the stairs, “Evening ladies! Is Phil on his way?”

I reluctantly stashed my laptop underneath my pillow and found my way downstairs.

“Hey Eliza! Angelica, Peggy! You all look swell,” I smiled and mussed Peggy’s hair. 

“Hey!” she smacked my hand out of her face, “You look red.”

“Went to pride,” I said, “There were so many hot people there I’m just stuck blushing for the rest of my life.”

“And by that I’m sure he means he just put too many temporary tattoos on his face again,” Angelica laughed.

“I just wanted to beat my record! 15 last time, 23 today!”

“He’s so proud of himself,” Eliza sighed, shaking her head. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Excuse me,” I said, walking towards the living room. “And don’t take that as a victory, I just have manners!” I yelled over my shoulder, wiggling my phone in sight.

 

Pre-lawens: hey, doing anything tomorrow?

I have an essay to finish and something to go over with George, but I can always make time for John.

SkillWithTheQuill: Am I ever doing anything?

I made my way back to the dining room, sure to sit in the seat closest to the croissants. My phone rested on my thigh halfway under a napkin. It buzzed again.

Pre-lawens: yes

SkillWithTheQuill: Okay, well  
SkillWithTheQuill: I’m not

 

I consider the options: I could risk Martha scolding me in front of the Schuyler sisters and getting that look from George, but the risk seems fairly low as everyone is in the kitchen and more importantly Martha is still in the kitchen, I could probably pull this off.

Pre-lawens: want to partake in a special ceremony to put down my flag?

SkillWithTheQuill: Why are we putting it down?

It would just take a quick reach and I could hide it on my lap in the napkin. The only question is when. They could come back at any moment.

Pre-lawens: can’t have it here.  
Pre-lawens: it broke anyways, it needs a proper burial. 

SkillWithTheQuill: It broke?

I could do it right now. It would take no more than fifteen seconds. Martha still has to pull out the ham from the oven, I’ve probably got plenty of time.

Pre-lawens: tragic accident between my backpack and the floor

SkillWithTheQuill: r.i.p.

Now or never, I guess. I took the chance. I pulled the towel back, grabbed a hot piece of bread and just as I was taking it out, of course - “You put that back!” - Martha rounds the corner.

So close and yet so far, I dropped the bread back in it’s basket and pushed it away from me.

Peggy skidded around the corner and stuck her tongue out at me. “I didn’t think his face could get any redder.”

“Why am I friends with you when you hurt me so?” Peggy just stuck her tongue out again and sat next to me, grabbing a croissant and setting it on her plate. I just looked at her. 

“Mrs. Washington would never yell at me and I just wanted to remind you that I have the bread power here.” She stuffed a piece in her mouth and smiled.

“I can’t believe you.”

 

 

It was after dinner, the sisters and I were tucked under blankets and stuffed on the couch watching Peggy’s choice of movie, The Fox and the Hound, when my phone buzzed again.

Pre-lawens: any chance you can skype tonight?

SkillWithAQuill: When do you need me?

Pre-lawens: whenever

SkillWithAQuill: Your Dad say something?

Pre-lawens: when does he not?

SkillWithAQuill: I’ll be ready in less than nine minutes.

“Sorry Ladies,” I groaned as I peeled myself off of the couch, “I gotta go. Feel free to finish the movie.”

“Huh?” Peggy muttered, pulling herself out of the corner of the couch and stretching herself over the arm.

Eliza asked, “What is better than Fox and the Hound with us?”

“I’ve just got some stuff to finish, that essay for my gov class,” I replied.

“And by that he means John,” Angelica smirked.

“No, I do have an essay,” I retorted.

“Did John say he’d skype?” Eliza mused, “I bet he said he’d Skype.”

“That would make the most sense,” Angelica agreed.

“They’re just so cute together,” Peggy added.

“We’re not together,” I pouted.

“But he so wants to be,” Eliza smirked.

I huffed and spun towards the stairs, “You’re the worst.”

“Aren’t we?” Peggy replied. The sisters laughed and snuggled in closer for the rest of the movie. I hate them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's P.O.V.

The familiar tone of a skype call filled the room. I quickly double checked the lock to my room, the bathroom, and stuck my earphones that were hanging from my ears into the audio jack of my phone. I sat between the farthest wall in my room and my bed, my arms resting on the bed to keep my phone up for the video.

“When will you retire your android so you don’t look like a single pixel, John?” was the first thing he said to me.

“Hello to you too. Is it the iphone camera that adds so much red or did you peel those tattoos off with a toothpick?”

“Ha, very funny,” he rolled his eyes. “The Schuyler sisters were over for dinner and I didn’t know until ten minutes before they arrived.”

“Only you have such amazing luck, Alex.”

“I know, I know, I’m talented, no need to tell me. Anyways, what happened? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, picking at a loose thread in my comforter.

“You’re always fine,” he replied. “Dad being a dick again?”

I chuckled, “Yeah something like that.” Alex waited. “He just complained about the parade is all. I guess I overreacted.”

“I don’t know you to overreact,” Alex responded.

“Remember that time when I punched Charles Lee in the ribs and broke two of them?”

“To be fair, the guy had it coming. He was being a homophobic garbage hole, I still don’t think that counts as an overreaction. You defended yourself.”

“Defended myself from words with fists, I still don’t call that a victory.”

“Well it made me happy,” Alex said.

“I wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t purposely trying to attack you.”

“I know.” The string pulled from the blanket. I wrapped it around my first two fingers. “You’re too good for me,” he continued.

“Ha, that’s a joke,” I said.

“I’m serious!”

I shook my head. “Oh, hey, you remember that guy on the bus that you kind of talked to before you sat down?”

“Yeah, he had those bitching rainbow knitting needles.”

“Turns out he knows Laf!”

“Who the hell is Laf?” Alex asked.

“The costume manager for the theater; they’ve had drinks with us a few times? I think you met them at least. They are very hard to forget, they’re probably the most gorgeous creature on this planet.”

“Most gorgeous creature on the planet, huh?”

“That’s what the cast and crew calls them,” I laughed. “Although I don’t think they know that so maybe don’t bring that up to them when you meet. I could have sworn you have met them before.”

“Nah, I don’t remember them, and you say I would have.”

“Well then you just have to meet. You’d love them, I think they would be your type,” I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

Alex huffed, “Yeah, maybe.”

“I’ve got the whole day off tomorrow, would you mind if I invited them to our bonfire ritual to burn the flag?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think you could speak in one word sentences,” I laughed. He didn’t seem to be as enthused. “You okay, Alex?”

Alex grabbed the throw blanket from his bed and sat back in front of his desk. “Yeah, I’m fine, I guess I’m just a bit tired. I didn’t sleep too well last night and I’ve been working on that essay since coming home from pride and pride was a lot and then the Schuyler sisters being just as exhausting as always - ”

“You really need to take better care of yourself. What am I going to do when you die of exhaustion? I don’t have another Alex in my life.”

He smiled softly and snuggled tighter into his blanket. “You think I could stay the night tomorrow?”

“I was planning on it. You know you are always welcome to stay over.”

“Same for you at the Washington’s.”

“Course. Now get some sleep.”

“What?” Alex asked, seemingly offended.

“You’ve had an exhausting day and you need to take care of yourself. Drink some water and get to sleep - you ate today right?”

“Yes, mom, Martha made dinner.”

“Alright, goodnight.” I moved to end the call.

“Wait! I was supposed to make you feel better! I just made you listen to me!” Alex leaned into the camera.

“Trust me, that’s all I wanted. You know I hate talking about it.”

“You sure?” Alex’s brown eyes looked even bigger than they normally did. The thought “He could hold the universe in his gaze,” ran through my mind. What’s that from? I’ll blame it on the camera, movie magic and all that jazz.

“Yeah, man. Thanks. Really.”

“Well, I guess you can go then,” Alex smirked.

“Goodnight, Alex, get some sleep! You need it, tomorrow is going to be great! Maybe I’ll invite Herc too.”

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed. “Herc?”

“The guy on the bus, Laf’s friend.”

“Right.”

I glanced at the time. “Okay, seriously goodnight!” I hung up before I went on another tangent. I needed to let Alex sleep, Lord knows he doesn’t get enough of it. It has been looking as though his eye bags have always been a part of his face and less like he had a bad night’s sleep or two. 

I sent a quick text to Laf.

Pre-lawens: hey, doing anything tomorrow?

I shut the lights of, checked the locks, and climbed into bed. I sent a quick prayer to the universe that Alex was doing the same.

Badguette: Other than the Show from a Pink Firey hell?  
Badguette: I’m free before 5:00 and after an estimated 10:30 as long as this cast manages to keep their costumes together for one performance.

Pre-lawens: oh shit, yeah, i forgot that was still showing.

Badguette: Unfortunately, I have not.  
Badguette: What is happening tomorrow?

Pre-lawens: a flag burning/burial ceremony. my pride flag met an untimely end and i need to let it down gently

Badguette: You don’t mind waiting?

Pre-lawens: not at all

Badguette: It’s in my calendar, it’s official, I’ll be there!

Pre-lawens: great ! feel free to invite herc too

Badguette: You know Hercules?

Pre-lawens: met him on the bus today 

Badguette: I’ll ask for that story later! I’ve got only one more button to sew before I can finally get to sleep.

Pre-lawens: best of luck g’night

Badguette: Night!

 

I sent a snapchat to Herc as well.

Pre-lawens: laf should ask you, but in case they forget, you are cordially invited to a flag burial at my home if you wish to accompany laf on their way home from the theater.

Threadboi: They just told me - see you there!

 

I stuck my phone on the charger and rolled on my side, nuzzling into the plush comforter. I thought about how Alex seemed a little off on the call. I hope he gets some sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squad up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laf's Point of View!

I clung on to Herc’s bent arm as I stumbled across John’s driveway.

“Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to keep your heels on,” Herc laughed.

“I need to establish dominance in the theatre,” I huffed, nearly rolling my ankle over a particularly large piece of gravel. “Who will listen to the costume manager if I am not superiorly dressed?”

“I think your personality is dominating enough,” Herc laughed. “And besides, this is a bonfire, not the theater.”

“I’m meeting a new person, I need to look good, establish my dominance.”

“You always look good.” 

I tripped.

Herc’s arms quickly followed, one wrapping around my upper back and the other grabbing onto my arm. He laughed before lifting me off my feet to cradle me in his arms. Princess style? He’s such a dork; I could feel myself blushing. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hid my face in his broad shoulder. Thank God I wore pants today.

“The heels really help you exude dominance when you trip over them,” Hercules chuckled.

“That’s not fair, who in their right mind would have a gravel driveway anyways?”

“A man with a lot of land and what looks like a stable. I think John’s father might be a cowboy.” He set me down on the porch patted my head. 

“Jerk,” I smiled. The door opened before we could even knock.

“Hey, Herc said y’all were on the way!” John grabbed my arm and pulled us both inside. “Want anything to drink?”

“I’ll take some water, sweetie,” I said. To show my thanks, I ruffled his hair which was, to my surprise, left down tonight. I normally tug on his ponytail, this really is a treat for me.

“I’m good, thanks,” Herc said, struggling to get his boots off.

“You should get him a water too, he is just too polite to ask for anything,” I stage whispered as I walked with John to the kitchen. I could feel Herc’s glare on my back, but I knew he’d be thankful for it in ten minutes. “Where’s Daddy?” I asked.

“Don’t say it like that,” he snorted, “My father is at some business politician state rep dinner thing; he’s trying to get in the right people’s good graces. He’s told me he is running for the senate this year.”

A smaller boy with long black hair sitting at the dining room table spoke up, somehow without stopping his hands from racing over the keyboard on his laptop. “Just skipping over the House?” he asked.

John laughed at that. “Apparently there is a lack of qualified Carolinian politicians running this year and his office thinks he can pull it off.”

“Cocky, much?” He stuck out his tongue.

“Save your shit and shut your laptop, people are here.” John replied, continuing into the kitchen. I followed closely on his heels.

Alex called after him, “I’ve only got a few more things to write down.”

“Alexander,” John warned, “We both know what that means. Bullet points only and then shut that damn thing off.”

John handed me two bottles of water and then grabbed two himself. “Alex is a workaholic and has issues with finishing writing when he starts. His most common academic critique is that he writes way more than what he is asked, professors just don’t have the time for all his extra-ness.”

“That seems like a silly complaint. I thought passion was something teachers liked.”

“Well, there’s passion and then there is Alex,” he laughed.

“I resent that,” we heard from the dining room. 

John rolled his eyes, “Resent it all you want, it’s true!”

“Whatever,” Alex replied. 

Realizing I had left Hercules at the door, I retreated to bring him his water. He was still trying to get off his second boot when I arrived. “Need any help?” I asked, setting the waters down on the nearby table.

“Accidentally got a worse knot in this one instead of taking the tie out, and I cut my nails earlier today. Just give me a minute.”

“Nonsense, let me at it.” I stooped down and knelt in front of Hercules.

“Really, I can get it,” he argued.

“I’m sure you can,” I said as I swatted his hands away from the string. He sighed and stood up and I really really did try to not think about how I’d like to be in this situation with a completely different context. Within a few seconds of picking at it I had untied his boot. I sat back on my ankles and then really ~really~ tried not think about that other context. “All done,” I grinned. He stretched a hand for me and helped me to my feet, steadying me with a large hand spread out against my lower back. I think God is testing me specifically today.

“Come on, let’s go,” he smiled. I spun and led the way, regretting the loss of his hands. 

We made our way to the dining room just in time to see Alex finally close his laptop. Our eyes met first, and suddenly they weren’t meeting. I watched as his eyes slowly raked down to my painted toes and back to my eyes. I even felt Hercules tense beside me and take a step enough to guard my left shoulder. Our gaze locked again and his lips pursed. I really didn’t think the rainbow clad kid that Hercules described to me would have a problem with my identity, but he isn’t the first gay man I’ve butted heads with. I squinted my eyes back at him and cocked my head in question.

“I like the color of your toenails,” he said. I agree, I love pastel polishes.

“I painted them,” Herc said, raising his chest a bit. 

Alex’s eyebrows raised and flickered between us a few times. I rested a hand on Herc’s bicep and agreed, “He did a good job.”

Alex let out a strong breath, gave a knowing smile, and got out of his chair. He seemed, relieved? “Alexander,” he said, giving his hand in greeting, “but call me Alex.”

I took his hand first, stepping out to be more next to Hercules. “Pleasure to meet you. Most call me Lafayette.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he dipped down to softly kiss the back of my hand. “And Hercules, right?” he said, turning to give him a handshake as well. Herc’s eyebrows were still slightly tensed, his mouth a straight line.

“Yes,” he replied, shaking his hand. “I should thank you again for returning my needle to me last night.”

“No need, a knitting needle that bitchin’ deserved to be returned home to it’s pair.”

“Bitchin’?” I laughed.

Herc smiled, turning to me, “The rainbow ones you gave me.”

“How did I not guess?” I poked my tongue out. Herc’s eyebrows finally relaxed. I’m just glad he likes them enough to use them.

At that moment, John came around the corner with a box of graham crackers and a huge ziploc bag filled with marshmallows and individually wrapped pieces of chocolate. “We’ll have to find some sticks, but we have the fixings.”

“Yes!” Alex yelled, “Why didn’t you tell me we were having s'mores!?”

“I didn’t think we were until I got the idea like two seconds ago,” he replied. “Let’s grab our waters and shoes and then head out, the fire is already going. Have you put bug spray on yet? It’s not so bad, it’s past dusk, but you’ll still get bit.”

“I’d rather get bit,” I replied, “bug spray is nasty.”

Herc laughed, “I’m good too, I put it on before I came.”

“Where is it, I’m not about to get salmonella like our dear friend Laf here,” Alex replied.

“You mean malaria?” John teased.

“I know what I mean.”

“It’s in the bathroom upstairs.”

“Thanks.” Alex jogged up the staircase.

The three of us began the walk to bonfire, and I decided to ask. I lightly skipped a few paces to be walking next to John. “Hey, ah, do you know if Alex is okay with me?”

“Okay with you? What do you mean?” John’s cheek moved as he lightly bit the inside.

“Like, with trans people,” I elaborated.

“Oh,” John’s expression relaxed, “Yeah, absolutely. I’d never invite anyone over with you if they had a problem with it, I wouldn’t do that to you.” I threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for an awkward walking sideways, but affectionate, hug. “Why do you ask? He didn’t say anything, did he?”

“No… ” I replied. “He just kinda looked me over funny when I came in, I guess I just read it wrong. I tend to overthink these types of things. Well, all things actually.” We laughed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no need to be sorry,” John hugged me back around the waist. “I think he did that because I told him you were cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” I angled my face towards him and ruffled up his hair again with my other hand.

“Ha, I believe the exact words I used were ‘the most beautiful creature on this planet,’ and ‘probably your type,’ but I digress.”

“Aweh, sweetheart!” I cooed. I turned my head even farther to glance at Herc, “You hear that? You’re rooming with the most beautiful creature on this planet,” I teased.

“Well, I already knew that,” he said with a signature Hercules smile. I could feel my heart drop ten stories.

“Atta boy, Herc!” John yelled into the darkness. “Atta boy!”

We took the fold out chairs and scooched them closer to the heat; the air was tinged with the promise of a winter around the corner. I rested my feet on the warm stones surrounding the pit and held my hands out to warm them. Herc pulled his chair close to mine before doing the same. John added a few logs to the fire, giving a pleasant smell of crisp air, wood, smoke, and a bit of Herc’s cologne that I picked out for him last year. He set his chair on the other side of me and laid his broken pride flag in the grass at his feet.

“The dowel is only broken,” Herc said, “we could fix that if you wanted to. New wood or just saw it so it would be smaller.”

“Right,” John gave the fire a small smile, gazing at the embers. “I know, but I can’t really have it here. Dad’s not exactly okay with it.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.”

“I couldn’t throw it away, it felt too symbolically on the nose, so I thought we could give it a proper American flag send off,” John continued.

“I didn’t know you were so poetic,” I teased.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he winked.

“You’re ridiculous, Laurens,” I shook my head.

Alexander soon arrived and took his seat next to Hercules. “S’mores time?”

“Perhaps we should burn the flag first,” John suggested. “We can feast off of the fuel of the gay.”

“I love it, throw it in,” Alex said, reaching for the lighter fluid.

“Ah, there is tradition, is there not?” I argued, “We should not just burn the flag.”

“Google says that we fold it and soak it in kerosene so the flag burns quickly, no slow deaths for flags apparently,” John laughed, attempting to get the flag off of the wood.

“Anything else?” Hercules asked.

John began folding the rainbow material into this tiny triangle looking lump. “It is considered nice to say a few words for it, and I think you are supposed to say the pledge of allegiance, but this isn’t exactly an American flag.”

“So let’s just say the gay version of the pledge of allegiance,” Alex snickered. “I pledge allegiance, to this flag, of the united gays of America…”

Hercules picking up, “And to the sexual liberation for which it stands, many creations, under God, unshameable, -” 

“- with liberties and butt sex for all!” Alex finished. I nearly howled at the audacity of him.

John snorted, “I can’t believe y’all, this is ridiculous.”

“You came up with the idea and invited us all over, this is on you!” Alex retorted.

“Okay, Okay,” I continued while trying to get my breath back, “What’s next?”

“I don’t have kerosene exactly,” John said, “but we have the lighter fluid.” John grabbed a frisbee that was left out earlier and set it upside-down on the grass. He placed the small triangular folded flag in the middle and poured the fuel on top of it. “Now, we say a few words for our fallen hero. Alex, would you like to go first?”

“Absolutely,” he said. Alex kneeled next to the frisbee and gesticulating more and more widely the longer he spoke. “Being gay is more than a sexuality. It is a vibrant community, it is love, it is family, and it is pride in being who you are. Although being gay isn’t endorsed by everyone, might cause many stresses, and can sometimes even endanger you from strangers and people you are close to, being gay is something that will always run strong in our veins. We are a strong people part of a strong community, and we appreciate all of this that you represent, my dear flag. I am so sorry to see your career come to an end, but we thank you for your service, most notably in the hands of our dear laurens at pride. We will carry on your free spirit, your loudness, and your queerness. Happy trails.”

“That was strangely nice, Alex, thank you,” John muttered, his head tilted down and his fingers pulling on a loose thread in the rip of his jeans.

Alex passed the frisbee to Herc. “Well, um, thank you for your service. More importantly to me, thank you for bringing us together for a good night. I’m not too good with words, so I’ll stop there.” Herc passed the frisbee to me.

“Ah, mon ami. Beaucoup D’amour, mon ami, I have so much to say to you that I have no words for. You are just a flag, but you represent so much more. Love is love, and that will be just as true after you are reduced to earth again. Goodnight.” I passed it to John.

John sat in silence for awhile, picking at the plastic on the sides where the frisbee had been worn down by use. Soon enough, he took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry that I have to retire you early. Just know that I am… I’m so frustrated. I’m angry. It’s awful to lie to my father because I know he would never look at me the same, or worry about losing my chance at a college education if he ever found out. Worrying whether or not I will lose opportunities because of this, lose friends, lose other family, but I lose myself if I pretend or deny who I am and who I choose to love. Thank you for a good day of not hiding, and although I have to go back to it, know that there will be a day when I won’t anymore.” And with that, John tipped the frisbee over the fire and let the flag drop into the embers. We watched in silence as the flag went up in flames.

Hercules softly grabbed my hand. I could see that Alex and John were latched on to each other too, so I took John’s hand in mine. We watched as the material turned to ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herc painting Laf's toes makes me happy


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herc's Point of View

“I can’t believe you don’t like marshmallow. How could you hate marshmallow?”

There are a few things I have learned about Alex so far tonight, but most importantly is that he could find a way to argue about anything.

John argues right back. “It’s too damn sweet, and it’s sticky, it messes up the s’mores with anything it comes in contact to. What is good about a marshmallow anyways? It doesn’t even taste like anything but sugar.” John makes his s’mores (if you can call them that) with only graham crackers and chocolate.

“Marshmallows are soft, squishy goodness in the form of sugar, what is not to like?” 

“You’re marshmallow is on fire, babe,” Laf says.

“Oh, shit!” I pulled my sadly charred marshmallow out of the fire and blew the it out. It was fully black. “Well, this is disappointing to say the least.”

“You want it?” Alex asked, “I like mine burnt.”

“You can have it, you heathen. Want me to make it?”

“If you don’t mind, good sir,” he smiled. My insides warmed up at that. I’ve been passing fairly well for at least the last two years, but that hasn’t changed how good it is to hear someone call me sir, especially since my chest has been hurting quite a bit today. I went and ushered at Laf’s show today (to get in for free), so it has been a lot of sitting down not moving for my poor ribs. 

I’ve been surreptitiously stretching, adjusting, and popping joints in any small way I can. Reaching slowly for the s’mores ingredients has been the best one so far, so I may have eaten one or two more than I normally would. I would never say this to Alex or John, I’m not about to start that up again, but I have to agree with John. I can only take so much marshmallow. 

“Here you are, straight from the kitchen of the top of my thigh and a gay bonfire,” I joked, handing him the s’more, reaching across Laf and John. Another good stretch, my lower back popped in appreciation. I rolled my shoulders back to settle my binder back into place. Laf reached for their phone.

“Thank you very much, kind sir! Give my compliments to the chef!”

I pat myself on the back and whispered with my head down towards myself as much as possible, “Compliments, chef!”

John snickered and threw another chunk of chocolate into his open mouth. That kid was talented in a lot of weird ways.

My phone chirped from my jacket pocket.

Badguette: You doing okay?

Hunkcules: Yeah, I really like these guys. And the fire is nice. It has been a long time since I’ve been to a bonfire.

“Should we put some music on?” Alex asked.

“That’s up to you,” John replied. “I’ve got a portable speaker back in the house.”

“I’ll come with,” Laf suggested. “I want to steal one of your hoodies anyways, it’s getting a little too cold for the power suit.” I helped Laf pick out that suit, and damn did they look good in it. It hugged the thighs, was cinched around the waist with a few good alterations from yours truly, and really complimented their height.

“Y’all figure out what to play, we’ll be back soon,” John finished.

“Okay,” Alex replied. 

I got a text.

Badguette: Okay, just know we can leave whenever. I know you’ve had your binder on for too long.

Hunkules: Shhhhhhhhhh

Alex picked up the blanket he had stolen earlier and came to sit next to me in Laf’s chair. The comforter was huge and wadded up around his shoulders. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his music. “I was thinking Beyonce because this is a gay party and there is nothing gayer.”

I laughed, “That sounds great, but what Beyonce? There is a spectrum, a journey of Beyonce.”

“Would putting her entire library of music on shuffle be too offensive?”

“No, I think it is just the right amount of obscene,” I teased.

My phone went off again.

Badguette: I should strangle you.

I smiled.

“How long have you and Lafayette been dating?”

I blinked. “What?” No preamble from Alex ever apparently.

“You and Laf…” Alex trailed off, “Dating. You guys are dating, right?”

“Uh, no. No, we’re just roommates. And best friends. Like, close, but not that kind of close.” Where did he get that idea from? Did John tell him we were dating?

“Oh. Are you going to ask them out soon?” he asked.

“What?”

“Ask them out. You like each other, generally that leads to dating?”

I just blankly stared at him.

“Have I completely misread this?” Alex asked.

“Perhaps,” I said, starting to smile. “Where did you get the idea that we were dating? Did John say something?”

“No, no, it’s just -” Alex took a deep breath through his nose and pursed his lips together. “You just seem so connected. Always in tune with each other and what you both are doing. Most of the time, everything you do seems to happen together, even if it is not the same thing at all. And you think of each other often. Like, you always make Laf a s’more before you make yourself a s’more. And Laf got you water because they knew you didn’t want to ask for anything.”

“Isn’t that what friends do?” I asked. 

Alex ignored me, “And the scarf. John told me how you are knitting a scarf for their closing night at the theater for Legally Blonde? And it’s pink because of the show? Who thinks of these things for other people if they aren’t in love with them?”

“In love?”

“I don’t know, of course, I’m just saying. It makes sense to me.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Okay.” Alex leaned back in the chair and tucked his knees up against him so that his feet were on the chair too. He continued scrolling down his phone. 

Was it like that? I mean, I love Lafayette of course. They’re my best friend. They are who I go to for everything, who I can cry about classes with and who I can rant to about my boss and who I can share my joy of finally completing that project with. My phone chirped once again.

Badguette: You know I say I should strangle you because I love you, yes?

Okay okay, maybe Alex has more of a point than I originally thought. But it's a friend love, right? People love their friends. That's totally normal.

Do I want it to be friend love?

aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. fuck. Fuck! 

Alex spoke up, “What should we start with, Drunk in Love?”

“Seems to on the nose,” I responded, still focusing on my phone. I read it again. ‘because I love you, yes?’ My heart pounded in response.

FUCK.

“What about Crazy in Love?” Alex snickered. I think he could sense the turmoil that was rocking my brain.

“I should strangle you,” I replied, immediately thinking ‘I say I should strangle you because I love you, yes?’ Dammit. How did I never see this??

“How about Don’t Hurt Yourself?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much, I’m dying right now.”

“I Die With You” he giggled.

“Is that another Beyonce song?”

“Pray You Catch Me. Why Don’t You Love Me?”

“You’re a Diva,”

“AYE!” Alex yelled, “Now you’ve got the hang of it!”

“I hate you.”

“Sorry,” Alex smiled. I went to punch him in the arm, but he rolled out of the chair in time.

“You brat,” I grinned.

“I thought I was your brat,” Laf joked from behind us. I turned around to see Lafayette grab the back of their chair with their hands. The suit jacket must have been left inside, as I could see the beige tank styled blouse they wore to the theater that night. They were sporting a half zipped hoodie over that, navy blue, that was hanging off one shoulder and reaching down to their mid thigh, covering most of their sleek dress pants. Their hair was pulled back into a ponytail like normal, but the long day has allowed a few strands to poke out. All of them was glowing from the soft firelight, and they were smiling as warm as the fire felt. Their eyes were on me.

They were beautiful. 

I whispered a firm and meaningful, “fuck.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laf's P.O.V.

To say the very least, I was worried

To say the most, which was more accurate, I was panicking. 

Hercules hasn’t spoken to me in days. Days! He won’t answer my questions, he won’t answer my texts, he never picks up the phone, if he is in the living room when I get home he immediately picks up whatever he was doing and shuts himself in his room. I even asked for his help with an alteration and he said he was too busy. He’s been “too busy” ever since that bonfire at John’s house. Hercules won’t even look me in the eyes anymore when he finds himself forced to interact with me, and the worst part? I have no idea why.

See, I could handle this if I had known what I had done. I’m quick to own up to my own mistakes, and a fairly good problem-solver, but this whole wondering thing? Not the best for me. Here I was, walking home from class when I should be going to the library to study with the same questions invading my thoughts.

Did Alex say something? Was it because I left him, should I have invited him along to get the speaker? Was it something that happened after that point? Before it? Was it because I’m trans? No, that’s ridiculous, he’s trans. Did I say something? Did I not say something? Was John’s house too much for him? He has known me for three years now, what could have possibly changed his mind about me? What if it was not me? What if someone in his family has died? What if I killed one of his family members? No, I’m pretty sure I haven’t killed anyone. But why hasn’t he come talk to me about it? 

Now that is really what has been bothering me the most. Why hasn’t he come talk to me about it? I entered the building and shucked my bag off, swinging it by my side instead. There is only one conclusion I can come to; it has to be my fault. If it were otherwise he would have talked to me about what was bothering him! I’m his best friend! Really the only person he interacts with on a daily basis, the closest friend after me is John and they only met this past weekend, they’ve been friends for as long as Herc has been avoiding me. 

Oh. Maybe it’s John? Maybe it’s Alex? Did they do something to him? I am more than willing to kill them if need be. But John has always been good to me, and he vouches for Alex. Maybe it’s not a bad thing that happened. Ha, maybe Hercules fell in love with John. He has been texting him a lot since they met. But why wouldn’t he tell me? He would tell me. Right? Did he find out I love him?

Nope.

Nope, I’m stopping right there this is too ridiculous.

It makes sense though. He found out I like him and he’s disgusted but doesn’t want to tell me so he’s ghosting me. I wouldn’t blame him too harshly. I walked into the apartment.

Hercules jumped. He was sprawled out on the couch snuggled under at least two comforters. He was watching what appeared to be The Get Down. Without me.

The door closed behind me and I dropped my bag. “I thought we were going to watch that together.” I tried to make myself sound less sad than I felt. I really was pathetic.

“Oh,” was all he said, getting up and dragging himself back into his room, not even bothering to turn the show off. The door closed behind him. I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket.

Badguette: I desperately need a drink.

SkillWithAQuill: It’s late enough, meet at Gunner’s? 

Badguette: I will be there in the ten minutes it takes to walk.

I did decide to be sensible and put on sneakers before I left, which is not something I normally do, but this is a sad drinking night. I just need to be able to get out of my head and get home without breaking my ankles. I slipped out as silently as possible, not wanting to bother Herc any more than I already was. The nights were getting steadily chillier as winter began its slow descent on the South Carolina weather. 

SkillWithAQuill: Already there.

When I arrived, I found Alexander to not be a liar. He was seated at the bar with a drink in one hand and his fingers absentmindedly wiping through the condensation on the countertop. He was a bit hunched over but still watching the news through his curtained long black hair. I took the seat next to him. “Know where a lady could get herself a little something to drink?”

“I’ll get you a single whiskey sour if you suck my dick,” Alex snorted, still concentrating on the patterns of water in front of him.

“Ah, my two favorite meals!”

Alex sat back to finally look at me. “I don’t think a whiskey sour is considered a meal.”

“I don’t think dick is considered a meal.”

“Touche.”

“I still won’t pass on that whiskey sour. Or two. Or enough to let me pass into blissful ignorance.”

“Running away from stuff too, eh?” He smirked a little too sarcastically to be completely joking.

“When am I not?”

“Cheers,” he smiled, lifting his drink. 

I tapped his glass with my palm, “And yet I still don’t have a drink in my hand!” 

Alex hailed the bartender and ordered for me. “So, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight?”

“You sure you want to know?” I ask, biting a bit of dried skin off my lip. “Because if I start I cannot promise to stop and I will be grossly honest and definitely a downer. I understand if you do not want to deal with my extraness tonight, we can just drink.”

“What’s on your mind, Laf.”

“Herc won’t talk to me,” I respond. “Well, it’s more than that. He has completely cut me off.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why?”

“You guys have such chemistry, you’re inseparable.”

I snorted, “Yeah? Tell that to the guy who hasn’t left the apartment when he is not in class or at his internship. And when I’m home, is quarantining himself to his room.”

“He’s not talking to anyone else?” Alex worried. “Are you sure it’s only you?”

“Well, I’d think that he was stepping away from the world entirely, but he doesn’t really have any close friends other than me. The one’s he did have he left back in New York. He’s not exactly a social butterfly.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” 

“And he talks to John.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked him,” I said sheepishly. “I know, I know, super awfully attached helicopter mom, I just want to fix what I did wrong. Or even just make sure that he has someone to talk to, even if that someone is not me. I feel so bad.”

“So, you feel bad about doing something that you don’t know of and are not even sure it was you who did it?”

“It hurt Hercules.”

Alex took a drag of his own drink as mine was set before me. I downed it in one go. “Jesus, Laf,” Alex smiled. “Honestly, I think Hercules is just spending some time to himself. Maybe he is working something out and will come to you with it once he has figured it out. Like you said, he’s not exactly a social butterfly.”

“You’re right. He just wants some time to himself. Who wouldn’t? My damn anxiety likes to decide that there is so much more happening.” I tapped my nails on the bar counter. “But still, this so isn’t like him. He likes knitting in the middle of the living room as I make dinner. He doesn’t normally avoid my eyes and my texts and my needy self all together. He never has before at least. I just… can’t help but miss him. Even though he’s ten feet away.”

“You love him.”

I sighed. Another drink was put in front of me, and it met a similar fate to the first. “Yeah.”

Alex sighed and leaned back in his chair while pulling his hair back into a ponytail. “I am also mourning a love with no fruition.”

I looked up in surprise. He was leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head exposing his whole torso, but his eye were still locked onto the bar countertop. “Is that why you were here before me?”

“Mhm,” was all he gave me.

“John?” I smiled.

“Is this that obvious?” he replied, glancing at me through his eyelashes.

Both of us in the bar on a Wednesday night in order to forget how the people we love do not love us back. “We’re so pathetic,” I laughed. I took another shot.

“Hey, speak for yourself!” he chided, taking another drink with me. “To the beautiful sufferings of unrequited love!”

“And to hopes that we will never experience them again!”

“Cheers!”

 

 

 

Let’s just say I was drunk enough to appreciate the lack of heels by the time I decided to get home. My hands shook as I attempted to let myself into the apartment. I laid my head against the cool of the door just to take a breather, but the door slid open. Huh. I swear I locked the door. I closed and locked it behind me (triple checked this time) and went to lay myself down on the floor of the living room. Surprisingly, it was already occupied.

“Hercules.” I sort of asked. I tried to ask.

“Are you drunk?” he asked. The first words he has said to me since the bonfire night.

“There may or may not be a possibility that my memory is already blacking out in spots.”

“Jesus, you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

“Eh,” I responded. A heavy silence settled between us, everything felt just soooo heavy. Still too rough around the edges. “You took the spot I was going to have tonight.”

“The floor?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s plenty of other floor for you to enjoy.”

“The other floor is not as comfy, this is the lay down part of the floor to cry on.” That jogged my memory. This is the floor time space, the space we come to wallow. The nicest part of the carpet between the coffee table and the t.v. that we kept water bottles and a pillow next to only because we both liked this specific spot on the floor when we didn’t feel good. Herc was on his back, clutching the pillow to his chest. “Hey, is it floor time for you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.”

“No,” I responded. I laid down next to him. “Can I lay with you?”

“You already are.”

“I guess I am.”

I couldn’t focus, I never knew the ceiling was so textured. Exhaustion overtook my body in a warm and potent wave. My cheeks buzzed and my eyes drooped. Was this panic or was this drunkenness? I felt Hercules breathing deeply beside me. I should ask. We should communicate. I should say something. Rent popped into my mind. You know, Mimi deserved so much more than what sh-

“Fifteen hours today,” Herc said. 

I could feel each pull of muscle contract in far too much detail as my face scrunched up (drunk and on my back is not a good combination). “That’s not the best.” 

“No.”

I felt like I was rocking but I was very sure my floor normally doesn’t rock. Was I rocking? I’m not rocking, my brain was rocking. I’m so warm, but my toes are so cold. I put them against Herc’s shins. 

I should tell him. No, bad idea, he’d hate me. He hates me anyways. Focus. “You’re binder is off now, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Herc laughed at that. Not a nice laugh, a laugh that made me sad. I’m very sad. I might be crying but the rocking is making it difficult to tell.

“Really,” I continued, “There is a lot that you have done that is very good, like taking off your binder without having to be told. That’s really really good and not something you would have done a year ago. I know, because I yelled at you way more often a year ago, mon chou.”

Hercules was crying. Why was my boy crying? No, I’ve messed up again. I don’t deserve to be here, in his life. His fingers brush the back of my hand. I take him up on his offer and we intertwine our fingers. “Thank you Laf, for being my friend,” he says. 

Now I know I’m crying, I can begin to taste it, on my lips and in the back of my throat. I can’t tell him his absence is freaking me out when he is crying and has other things to deal with, that would be too selfish of me. I can’t tell him I’m sad when he is sad. I can’t tell him I love him in all the ways he doesn’t want to love me when he is having floor time. I am a selfish person, but I do have limits, even if Hercules is many of my exceptions. “I will always be here,” I go with. His hand squeezes mine harder. 

Wow. Remind me to never get drunk again. I should put that in my phone memos. 

I relocate to rest my head on the middle of his chest and I end up crying, I’m not sure if I ever stopped, but I pet his hair because I know it makes him feel good when he is sad and honestly it also makes me feel good when I’m sad his hair is just so squishy and my face melts towards the floor because it’s too heavy for my face I can feel it and I probably drool on his poor shirt; my poor boy. At some point I fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk Laf is a hot mess and I love them


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex's P.O.V. 
> 
> :)

This is how I was spending my Friday. Horse riding. I can’t believe it. Actual horse riding, like this is some Disney Channel original movie.

In theory, I knew that the Lauren’s family did have horses in the stables behind their house, but I guess I really didn’t consider that there were actual living breathing horses there? That John rode for fun? No matter how I managed to block that fact out of my thought process, it still stands; I hate horses.

I mean, just look at them! Horses have terrifying dead eyes. They are soulless monsters that could easily destroy me, so I strongly prefer to be far away from their range of attack.

John, on the other hand, loves horses. He rides because he likes the “freedom” of it. And as much as I would like to disagree, I must admit that John looks great when he rides, which is something I have had the pleasure of experiencing for the better part of the afternoon. He’s been trying to show me how “gentle” horses are by riding his horse, Martha, around the fenced in field. Has this made me want to be any closer to a horse? Definitely not. Has this made me want to be any closer to John? Hell yes.

I really didn’t think that John could possibly be more attractive than the time he fought Charles Lee for me, but this really was giving that memory a run for it’s money. He had on a distractingly well fitting green sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the nicest skin-tight beige pants that wrapped sinfully against his thighs, and black leather boots that surrounded his legs up to the knee. The reins wrapped around his palms, the studied strength that John held himself up with, his long curly hair tumbling through the wind behind him as he rode… I was prepared to meet my early grave.

I was leaning against the trunk of a huge tree near the fencing of the field “writing” in my leather bound notebook, the nice one George gave me. I’m supposed to be focusing on my writing, but John in those pants… Damn. Of course, I am still writing, just not exactly looking at it. If a few lines bleed together or run off the page it is well worth it.

John rode himself over to the outside of the corral nearest to me. His hair was wind swept into a mess of tangled curls, and despite the cooling weather there was a thin sheen of sweat that shined prominently on his cheeks. Ugh, his cheeks - his freckles! I would let this man murder me. “Ready to try?”

I laughed, “That’s real funny, John!”

John dismounted and tied the reins to the metal panel that fenced in the corral space. “Come on, it’s not that scary. Martha is a very gentle lady.”

“I’m sure Martha has excellent etiquette, I’m more worried about the whole her being a horse thing.” 

“We can even ride together if you like, you won’t even have to control her. I’ll be in charge, you just hold on to me, yeah?” 

That isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever heard. But still, it’s a horse…. 

“Please, Alex?” John was pulling out all the stops, even his pouty lip, “I’ll owe you one! You can make me try something I don’t like!”

Now this was getting interesting. “Really, like what?”

“Like eating marshmallows!”

“Is it really worth such pain for you?”

“It would be worth a lifetime of eating marshmallows if I could get you on a horse, I love riding.”

I grinned wickedly, “I always took you to be a top, but I understand the love of riding.”

John flushed, “Shut the fuck up, Hamilton, and get on the damn horse.”

I considered my options. Humiliation and facing my fears, but I get to ask something of John. “I get one wish for this, yes? Anything I want?”

“I have limits, but I will try my best to appease you.”

“We can get a safeword! I’ve been waiting for that day for a long time,” I winked. His blush spread down his neck and colored his collar bones. Curse his gorgeously cut sweater.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“I suppose.”

His grin spread across his face as he stretched his arm out to pull me to my feet. I left my notebook at the base of the tree. “Hop up, partner!” he chuckled, moving to the side to allow me access to the side of the beast. How do you even do this?

I sized Martha up. “Wait, wait, I don’t just jump up on her back, do I? Shouldn’t I bow or something?”

“Unless you’re Harry Potter and Martha is a hippogriff.” John laughed, light heartedly slapping a hand on my back. “Need help?”

“I want to say no, but honestly have no idea what I am doing.”

“Alright, alright, watch me first. Grab the reins in your left hand, see how I’ve got it? It’s not on the end, it’s near the middle up against her neck, that way I can tell Martha to stop if she decides to move while I’m getting on.”

“Move?” I chewed on the cuticle of my thumb.

“She generally doesn’t, don’t worry.” John turned to smile at me. God, he’s handsome. I took my thumb out of my mouth and stuck my hands deep in the pockets of my sweatshirt. “Now, next, you grab her mane with the reins with your left hand and the pommel, this front part of the saddle, with your right. Left foot goes in the stirrup, and you swing up with your right leg to straddle. Since you are such a fan of riding, straddling should be second nature to you,” he teased, sticking his tongue barely out of his mouth and biting down. He lifted himself up on the saddle and cheekily did some jazz hands. “Ta da!”

“Okay, okay, I think I can do that.”

“I’m sure you can!” He dismounted and handed the reins to me.

I hesitantly walked up to the side of the horse and pulled the reins through my hands to hold them the way John had moments before. “Is this too tight?” I asked. 

John stepped up right behind me. “A little bit shorter, actually,” he replied. His arms came around me right underneath my own. His chin on my shoulder, one hand holding my left and the other pulling the reins through. He opened my left hand and tangled my fingers into some of Martha’s mane at the base of her neck. “That’s good,” he praised, breath hitting my neck. Jesus. What I wouldn’t give. “Now,” he said, stepping back, “The left foot goes in the stirrup. Make sure to have the bar of it underneath the ball of your foot, so you can use it to push yourself up. And the right hand goes on that front part of the saddle.”

After a moment of missing the actual stirrup, I was successfully hooked in. I fixed my fingers in Martha’s mane, “And this won’t hurt her? Pulling her hair?”

“You like it don’t you?”

I whipped my head around. John was smirking. Two can play at that game. “You’re not wrong,” replied, giving a gratuitous wink and curved my back a bit to jokingly stick my ass out. 

He laughed, “No, it won’t hurt her.”

 

I turned back to Martha, and stilled for a moment, trying to gather my bearings.

“The trick is to believe that you can do it. It’s like riding a bike for the first time or hitting higher notes on the trumpet, if you think you can do it you will be able to do it.”

I gave a quick prayer to whoever was listening, and hoisted myself up. Luckily, the fates were on my side today; quickly, John was too. 

“Well done!” he cheered, grabbing the reins from my hand and grinning up at me. 

“That was less terrible than I expected,” I giggled, high off of my achievement. “Although, I would prefer you to be up here sooner rather than later, what if Martha decides to just leave, I can’t steer this thing.”

John laughed and tapped my thigh, “You have to scoot back first, I’ll be riding so I’ll be in the saddle. You sit right off of it on the blanket.”

I placed both hands on either side of the saddle and scooted back, ass first, until I was far enough. John mounted as soon as I was settled, much more gracefully than I ever could. “Uh, where do I hold on?” I asked, currently only barely holding on to the back of the saddle.

John reached behind him and grabbed my hands, wrapping them around his middle. “Just don’t tickle me,” he chuckled.

“No promises.”

“I will kick you off this horse. Make Martha bite you.”

I pushed my torso up against John’s back as much as I could and tightened my hold - I was not about to fall off this horse. “You wouldn’t do that to little ol me, would you?” I responded, trying my best at a southern belle accent.

“Try me,” he laughed. 

Martha started with a jolt and began a swift trot across the field. The rhythmic movement of the horse and subsequent tossing of my legs soon became normal, and I began to enjoy the scenery. The crisp air chilled my exposed arms and back, but John was warm against me. I held tighter to him, enjoying the sweet smell of his particular cologne. His hair waved in the wind and tickled my face, so I turned my head to the other side. I watched the branches whisk past as we descended into the more forested area of the Laurens’ property. 

“Have you ever been back here before?” John asked. 

“No,” I replied, resting my chin on his shoulder like he did earlier, careful to not bite my tongue on the bouncing of our transport. “I’m more of the lay around and talk kind of spend my time, less explore your property and ride your horses kind of guest.”

“I’m glad you are allowing me to indulge.”

“I like doing what you like doing,” I responded.

John patted my hand that was still holding him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

We soon arrived at a little bridge with painted red railings that spanned the width of a small river of sorts. John dismounted and guided the reins over Martha’s head. He gripped them close to her mouth and led her to the railing, tying her up. I scooted onto the saddle. I don’t know why anyone would ever ride bareback, this is much more comfortable.

“Coming down?” John asked.

“How do I?” I questioned.

“Just put both legs on one side and slide off.”

“Ah, yes, of course, just slide off.” I still got caught in some strap of leather before I could slide off and make it safely to the ground. 

John yanked twice on the knot to check it’s resistance, then turned to me. My heart stopped. God. I could feel my brain short-circuit.

“Alex?” he asked.

“Uh…” for once I was lost for words. This boy, this beautiful boy, my very best friend. God. He has taken my words from me. 

“You okay?” he asked. He stepped closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. 

His touch seemed to force me into action. “You’re beautiful,” I said. Shit. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” 

My eyes were wide open and vulnerable, trapped by John’s gaze. “What do you mean,” he asked.

Well, I’m fucked either way. 

“Um, I mean you are beautiful. Right now, in front of me, with your cheeks dusted pink from the chilly weather and your freckles and your wind swept hair and your open eyes and the way you look like freedom when you ride your horse and the ways that you can make me feel.” My voice shook, my hands moved wildly with gesticulations as I continued. It was like I was a fire hydrant that had been accidentally opened. “You’re beautiful now, but you are also beautiful all the other times. I am completely captivated by you always. Always, whether I am looking at you or not, you consume me. I am constantly enamoured by you. It’s so gratifying to have you in my life and in my thoughts and I’m so so sorry that I feel this way because I don’t want to make this weird for you.” 

My hands plunged back into their pockets.

John blinked.

I looked down at the hole the toe of my shoe was digging into the ground. “That was too much, wasn’t it.”

Two hands splayed on the sides of my head brought me back to his gaze. My breath caught on his furrowed brows, his questioning eyes, and his quirked up lip. He softly shook his head and brought our lips together.

I pulled a deep surprised breath from my nose and relished in the sweet, warm touch of John’s mouth on mine. It was not a long enough moment before he pulled back, hands still cradling my skull, his thumbs grazing my cheeks. “Alexander,” he sighed. My knees wobbled and my hands found his waist. “My father can never know, we would have to be careful with his campaign, I have no idea what I am doing with my life, I don’t know what I want, I will never be as good with words as you are, I am completely and utterly terrified of losing our friendship, but I think it’s worth it. Could, could I possibly I be worth it?” His fingers curled in my hair, the heels of his hands pressing in against my jaw, his eyes screwed shut.

“One thousand times over,” I replied, grabbing at John’s gorgeous green sweater and pulling him in for another searing kiss.

In hindsight, horse riding wasn’t the worst way to spend my Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herc's p.o.v.

 

I’ve had three important things on my schedule this past week: Go to class, go to work, and avoid Lafayette at all costs.

 

It has been exhausting, to be honest, but I have to work through what I’ve discovered about myself, and this is how I do it.  I retreat, I digest, and I figure it out.  

 

I’m very good at the retreating part of it, but as to figuring it out?  Right now, I’m laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, attempting to figure.  

 

I have no idea what I am going to do about this.  So far, I know that under no circumstances will I want to lose Laf as what they are, my very best friend.  Really, my only close friend.  I can’t lose them.  But, there is the whole issue of my feelings and how that affects Laf.  I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.  So, if I tell them, will they be able to continue rooming with me?

 

Will I be able to continue rooming with Laf?  My heart has never been put through as much stress as this last week.  I’ve managed to avoid them most of the time, but we live together.  The few times I do run into them, my whole chest physically aches.  Even the things that remind me of them pangs some part of me.  Their bag on the counter, their sewing late at night with Bertha running as loud as always, heels collected at the front door, big band music from the 40’s wafting from their room, a mug left on the coffee table with the peppermint tea they love so much.  I got them like three boxes worth for their birthday, and it reminds me of when they opened it.  “You know me so well,” they said, and hugged me.

 

How was I so blind to never notice? 

 

Well I’m sure making up for it now.

 

In all honesty, I’m not completely sure what day it is.  I know it’s the weekend, because I don’t have classes so I haven’t bothered to do anything.  I think it is Saturday.  Yeah, it’s Saturday.  I should probably get some work done for the upcoming week of classes.  I just don’t feel like it.

 

I’ve got to do something, pining over my roommate like this is pathetic.

 

I sighed and didn’t do anything.

 

A soft tapping at my door brought me out of my thoughts.  I didn’t bother answering, they’ll come in eventually.  

 

What to do, what to do.  Maybe I’ll listen to music, that’s doing something kind of.  There is that album that Laf recommended that I haven’t gotten to yet, and they want me to watch Rent still.  The Broadway version, they say that is very important.  “The movie is a hollowed out carcass of the stage production,” they said.

 

“Herc?” a soft voice called as my door slowly creeped open.  “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” I replied, my voice raw from my nap earlier.

 

“Ah, are you coming?  Tonight I mean?”

 

Coming tonight?  Um, nothing’s on my calendar for today, I don’t think.  It’s a Saturday, they are probably going to hang out with a few people.  Maybe John.  Maybe someone else.  “Laf, I’m kinda tired, I might sit this one out.”

 

“Oh.”  I could feel their concern waving over me.  “I won’t be home till late tonight, with ah, yeah.”

 

I didn’t answer, but I did hum and roll to the side, bringing my blanket up to my chin.

 

A long breath came from the door.  “Feel better, mon ami.  Eat something.”  The door clicked behind them.

 

Have I eaten today?  Yeah, I had a bagel when I woke up.  I should eat again though, what time even was it?  I grabbed my phone and was greeted with a message.

 

Pre-Lawens:  my life has gotten increasingly more exciting in the last two days.  we still hanging out today?  i’ve got shit to tell you.

 

We were going to hang out today?  I thought that was Sunday.

 

Hunkcules: Mine has too, but not really in a great way.  Somehow duelly the best and worst thing to ever happen to me.  

Hunkcules: I thought we were hanging Sunday?

 

I opened my laptop and opened up facebook, I’m pretty sure Laf sent the album over that.  I scrolled through the messages, trying not to read them.  I miss Laf.

 

Pre-Lawens: it is sunday.

 

I double checked on my phone.  Huh.  I guess so.

 

Hunkcules:  I’m so sorry, John, I’m the worst, I thought today was Saturday 

 

Now I’ve really got to get some work done.  I sighed, but I did find the playlist.  Stromae?  Weird name, but alright.  I opened it up in a new tab and slid out of bed.  Alright, what was planned for today?  I grabbed my planner from my desk and what looked like a bookmark fluttered out of it.

 

Pre-Lawens:  it’s ok, i’m already with alex anyways, you do whatcha gotta do.

 

Hunkcules: I’ll make it up to you, we can get take out or something and I’ll buy.  Or maybe one free alteration :p

 

I picked up the slip of paper from the ground.  “Oh, shit,” I whispered to myself.  It’s a ticket.  My ticket, to Legally Blonde.  Laf is closing their show tonight!  That’s what they were talking about when I said I was too tired?!

 

Pre-Lawens: you’d do them for free for us anyways.

 

Hunkcules: You’re not wrong.

Hunkcules: What was the big news?

 

I’m the worst friend ever, I’m missing their show.  I told them I was too tired, damn, what time is it showing?  Costume directors have to go in early right?  I quickly googled the theater’s website.

 

Pre-Lawens: alex confessed his undying love for me and blew me right there in the woods.

 

My phone dinged again.

 

SkillWithAQuill: For the record I did not blow John in the woods, I blew him in his bedroom like a man with standards.

 

I laughed, but I couldn’t help the small hurt in my abdomen.  Two best friends who got together, huh.

 

Hunkcules: That’s awesome, dude!  So you two are a thing now?

 

And to Alex

 

Hunkcules: You are not a man with standards.

Hunkcules: Congrats, though.

 

The showing was at two this afternoon, and it was a little after one, I could do this.  I can’t believe I told them I was too tired to go to their show, I promised to be there a month ago!

 

My phone ringed.  It was Alex.  I paused the music and picked up.

 

“Hey lover boy,” I teased.

 

“I wish I could say the same to you!” he yelled.  “You should tell Lafayette!”

 

“Tell Lafayette what?” John asked.  I was on speaker phone it seems.

 

“How hopelessly in love he is with them,” Alex replied.  I sighed.

 

“Why are you ignoring them then?” John asked me.

 

“What?”  I replied.  How does he know?

 

“Laf has been kind of torn up the last week, you won’t talk to them.  They think they did something,” John said.

 

“You dick,” Alex added.

 

“They didn’t do anything,” I replied.  Except exist all too perfectly for my poor heart to handle.

 

“They talked to me at the theater last night about how their best friend won’t even look at them anymore.”

 

My heart sunk.  “Really?”

 

“They think it’s because of something they did at the bonfire on Wednesday.  I told them to ask you about it, but they’re too scared,” John continued.  Laf?  Too scared to talk to me?  I’ve really messed this up, haven’t I.

 

“It’s not their fault not at all.  It was at the bonfire, but I was the idiot who decided to fall in love with them.”

 

“So tell them that,” Alex said.

 

“You say that like it is easy,” I responded.

 

“It worked for me,” Alex giggled.  I heard their lips smack together.

 

“Yeah, well you’re boyfriend actually likes you.”

 

“And Laf doesn’t like you?” Alex questioned.

 

“Not like that.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“It’s different between us,” I explained.  “We’ve been roommates for two years, we’re more like siblings.  And besides, Laf likes boys.”  I picked at the seam of my shirt.

 

“Laf likes boys, you’re a boy, I don’t exactly see the problem here.”

 

“I’m trans, Alex, I don’t… have the right piping.”

 

“That is some transphobic bullshit right there,” Alex fumed, “You are an idiot, you know that?”

 

I grimaced, “Yeah.”

 

He sighed.  “You wouldn’t say that to another transgender person, would you?”

 

My face fell.  “Of course not.”

 

“And even if it was,” Alex continued, “Relationships do not have to be dependant on sex.  I would even argue that they shouldn’t.  But in a way, what you are saying also denies asexual people of their identity.  Now, I know you.  You don’t believe what you said, you’re insecure of yourself and your attractiveness and your new feelings.”

 

I was silent.

 

John spoke up, “You’ve got to tell them.”

 

“What if they don’t feel the same way?” I muttered, my eyes watering up.  “Guys, Laf is my closest friend, I couldn’t stand to lose them.”

 

“Uh, here’s the thing,” Alex muttered.

 

“Hm,” I prompted.

 

“I’m not about to betray Laf’s confidences and snitch or anything, I just really  _ really _ think you should ask them out.  You understand?”

 

“ _ What. _ ”

 

“Sorry, gotta go!” Alex yelled.

 

“You can’t just give me that cryptic ass information and just -”  The dial tone rang out.  

 

Does that mean…?

 

I’ve got to go, I’ve got to tell them!  I frantically grabbed some jeans, threw my binder and a button down on, and slid my shoes on.

 

“Okay, okay, keys, wallet, phone,” I listed as I patted the pockets each item was in.  “Oh!”  I ran back into the bedroom, slipped the ticket into my wallet, and took the pink scarf out of the drawer.  A quick fold, and placed it in my bag.  I checked the clock.  1:23.  I jogged outside.

The cool air hit quick; I forgot a coat.  The theater is a twenty minute walk and I’ve got to get a good seat.  I can handle a little cold.

 

My breath fogged the air.  November.

  
And it’s beginning to snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cheeky rent reference, ah?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laf's p.o.v.

Well, that’s a wrap.

I stood in the back of the costume room, eyeing it over to make sure everything was done. All the costumes were in their appropriately labeled garment bags and pushed together, the sewing materials were all in their rightful spots, the floor has been swept, the washing machine opened, my bag was by the door… yeah. 

As much as I loathe this show, it’s sad to see it end. Endings suck. 

Is this the end?

My eyes shut and I leaned my back against the door. I knew I was really mourning Hercules. All he has done for the past four days is ignore me and only me. Does this mean it’s the end for us? That thought crowded my mind as I chatted with the company backstage the past three hours. Many came to thank me for my work and ask me if I was coming back for the next production. Even John came by the theater in the middle of Act 2, leaving Alex in the lobby, to thank the director and say hello. Give me a hug. Ask if he was needed for strike.

Hercules didn’t come.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. 

It’s just a stupid musical, it’s not like I’m even on stage.

I grabbed my bag. I’ve still got a cast party to be at tonight. Luckily my section of tear down for strike wasn’t all that bad, so I still have an hour and a half before I have to be there. 

What should I do? There’s no way I am going back to the apartment. I could grab coffee. Maybe John and Alex are still free, they’d go with. I’d appreciate the company. John gives great hugs, I could use another.

I whipped my phone out of my pocket to send a quick text to Alex and John. To my surprise, when I unlocked the screen there was a notification from Hercules. Five notifications from Hercules, actually.

Hunkcules: Hey, where are you? (5:03 p.m.)

Hunkcules: Oh, of course, strike. I forgot you do that the same day. (5:16 p.m.)  
Hunkcules: In my high school company we did it the day after. (5:17 p.m.)

Hunkcules: The show was great (5:33 p.m.)

 

Hunkcules: They are kicking me out of the lobby, so I’ll meet you outside! (5:59 p.m.)

He came?! It’s nearly six thirty, is he still waiting?!

I picked up the pace and nearly ran through the lobby. I opened the door and sure enough, there he was. He was sat on wooden benches, his broad shoulders hunched over. His forearms were resting on his knees as he fiddled with the strap of his messenger bag. The snow was falling softly around him, glinting playfully as they tumbled under the lights. 

“I thought you were too tired,” I called, just a little salty, slowly making my way to him.

He startled and stood, bashfully cradling his bag in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” I asked. “It’s okay to be tired, you didn’t have to come.”

“Uh, this is embarrassing, but um, I thought it was Saturday.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and grinned uncomfortably. 

I began, “How did you manage tha-” and then I realized his bare forearm, showing past where Herc had rolled up the sleeves on his button down. “Are you not wearing a coat?!”

“I kind of forgot it.”

“Forgot a coat?! It’s freezing, let’s get you someplace warm, how long have you even been out here?” I couldn’t help the sharp tone coming from me. I grabbed his arm and began walking towards the closest coffee shop.

“No!” he nearly yelped, pulling my hand off of him but not letting it go. “No, this is important, I can handle a little chill.”

“A little chill, it is snowing outside. You’re going to get sick.” I tried moving once again, but Herc didn’t budge.

“Please, just, let me give you this.” My grip loosened as my curiosity grew, and he pulled out of my hold. He unzipped his bag, and brought something out. “Here,” he said, holding out a pink pile of yarn with both arms.

I cupped it into my hands gently, my thumb softly running over the stitches. It was so plush and warm. “It’s a scarf,” he said. “I know you don’t like pink anymore, but I started it before you hated pink and I was thinking that maybe a few weeks of being broken up with the show you might begin to like pink again and maybe appreciate the parallel, but if not that’s okay! I’ll make you a red one, that’s close enough and dark red is a really pretty color on you-” He snapped his mouth shut. I wasn’t sure if it was the weather or the statement that made his cheeks glow.

A beat of silence passed. “You made this for me?”

“I thought flowers were too lame for you,” he admitted.

“Is this why you were avoiding me?” I asked. Perhaps I was a bit more salty than I let myself think earlier. I brought the garment to my face and felt how soft it was against my cheek.

“No,” he responded. “I’m so sorry I retreated for a few days there, but I needed to.”

“It’s not my fault? You’re not mad at me?” I could feel the sting of tears mounting behind my eyes and traveling through my face.

“Oh, no, God no,” He responded, grabbing the scarf and untangling it from my hands. He meticulously wound it around my neck as he continued. “Well, it’s absolutely your fault, but I could never be mad at you for it. It is also my fault.”

He placed a hand on my chest, smoothing down the dangling ends of the scarf, looking appreciative. I took in a shaky breath. “I don’t understand.”

“Gil.” Gil? He hasn’t called me Gil seriously in years. He seemed to harden his resolve as he held me, both hands gripping my upper arms. “Feel free to say no, and I completely understand if you do because I may be ruining our friendship with this, but there is no other way to go on.”

“Herc, what are you talking about?”

“Go on a date with me.” My brain spun wildly. “I mean, will you, please?” A date?

“Ah,” was all I could manage. He liked me?? His hands, now closer to my elbows, sparked my skin with a whole new meaning.

“I was thinking maybe ice skating? I’ll be a disaster, but you’ll probably be good at it with all of your heel wearing and everything.”

I’ve got an hour and a half. “Ah, how about coffee. Is right now a good time for you?” I suggested.

“Anytime is a good time if it’s with you.” God, my Hercules is just as cheesy as always. 

My Hercules. 

I fought the grin attempting to consume my face, but it came out anyways. “Alright.” To that, he smiled, and oh did he smile. 

I couldn’t tell you who moved first, but I hooked my arm in his as he held his elbow out for me. We gave each other a sly grin, and with the snow falling around us and my heart soaring we walked to the cafe.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (edited on 5/18/17 to fix a pronoun)

“I can’t believe you made me wear this,” John grumbled as he boarded the bus, right on the heels of his boyfriend.

“It’s an appropriate celebration, John!” Lafayette teased from behind him, cheekily pinching his ass as they climbed the steps. 

John quickly slapped their hand away and blushed. “Appropriate for what?” he grumbled, “no part of this -” he said gesturing to his outfit “- is appropriate.”

“It’s appropriate to celebrate your first pride out of the closet with the most outlandish outfit that you wouldn’t kill me for!” Alex replied, shooting a smile over his shoulder, appraising his outfit while he still could.

Outlandish was right. John was decorated in the gayest clothing options Lafayette, Hercules, and Alexander could throw together in the week before the event, which ended up, unsurprisingly, pretty gay. Mixing those three minds together got John glitter in his hair, on his face, really on every surface of his body Lafayette could reach, bushy false lashes from the dollar store, a rainbow flag cape, long pink ribbons tied to his wrists and braided into his bun, a pink fishnet tank top, and even a pair of gold heels they bought specifically for the occasion. The real highlight of the ensemble were his booty shorts. Custom made, courtesy of Hercules, and stitched on the ass in thick letters?: “Property of A. Ham.”

John was absolutely mortified in the most liberating way possible. He would have never agreed to an outfit like this. Luckily for the rest of the group, Alex still had that one wish from that day of horse riding last year. He had been saving it for something special, deeming John’s first pride on Alex’s arm a worthy event.

John sat down next to Alex, threading his fingers between his immediately. 

As ridiculously fun as he found his outfit to be in the middle of a pride parade, he really didn’t enjoy how much of the bus seat he could feel on his bare skin. “If only Dad could see me now,” he grimaced, playfully nudging into Alex’s shoulder.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing! I think you look hot,” Alex smiled.

“I’d fuck you,” Laf added, slumping next to Alex and grabbing John’s hand as well.

“You’d better not,” Alex retorted, pulling Laf’s hand away.

Herc threw an arm around Laf as soon as he joined the group. “Yeah, you’re taken, remember?”

“We could be poly,” Laf winked. 

Alex glared right back, “Not with John you could not.”

“I wouldn’t be mad,” John smirked.

“Keep in mind who you are having dinner with, I will poison you,” Alex grumbled, cuddling his face into John’s chest. 

John slipped an arm around Alex and pulled him closer, planting a quick kiss to the top of his head. “I’d never leave you out, babe, you can join us.” Alex humphed, but gave him a kiss in return anyways.

The bus hissed to life, pulling into traffic. Herc had his knitting out; he was starting on a little blue koozie for one of the older ladies in his book club. Lafayette was contently leaning against their boyfriend, lazily fiddling with the slack yarn. John and Alex were in a gentle game of thumb wars, more enjoying each other’s company than really competing, which was saying something for those two.

“Thanks, guys.” John didn’t look up from fiddling with Alex’s thumb with his as he elaborated. “I know this is grossly sappy and all, but I’m just really glad that you’re here. It was great to go to pride with you, and God knows I would never go if it were only me, so. Well, what I’m trying to say is that I appreciate you. A lot.”

Alex snuggled in even closer, wrapping his arms around John’s torso and bringing him in for a hug. Herc reached around Lafayette and squeezed his shoulder warmly; Lafayette pet his cheek.

“We love you too,” Herc smiled.

Placing a gentle hand on each of their friends in turn, Laf agreed. To Herc, to Alex, to John, “Beaucoup d’amour, mon ami,” they murmured.

“To many more prides!” Alex softly cheered, basking in the warmth of affection. 

A pleasant silence fell over the group as the bus bustled on, just as loud and noisy and jerky and calming as ever. An apt end to a good day; one of many more to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! Thanks for reading :)
> 
> I might write some one shots in this universe and add it in a series because I do really love these guys and don't want to let them go quite yet. If you have any ideas you want to see in particular, or just want to encourage me to do it, please comment! It's the best part of posting these things.


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